


When In Lebanon

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel & Vessel Interactions (Supernatural), Angsty Schmoop, Blood Magic, Established Relationship, M/M, Michael (Supernatural)'s Vessel, Post-Possession, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: Sam has some unfinished business with the teddy bear from the Lebanon pawn shop. Since the pearl didn’t work on getting Michael out of Dean, maybe the bear can get the job done.





	When In Lebanon

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for episode 14.13
> 
> Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Coda to episode 14.13 “Lebanon”. Written for 2019 spncanon-bang. The words in the spell ontziaren odola mean ‘blood of the vessel’ in Basque. Thank you winchesterchola for your beautiful artwork, I loved getting to work with you again!

Be sure and check out the amazing art master post here: [tumblr](https://winchesterchola.tumblr.com/tagged/when-in-lebanon): [livejournal](https://stargazingchola.livejournal.com/10652.html): [dreamwidth](https://winchesterchola.dreamwidth.org/1389.html): 

*****

Sam knew he wasn’t going to be getting much rest tonight. Which wasn’t much of a big surprise after all that had gone down in the last twenty-four hours; _hey dad, bye dad_. It had all been a confusing whirl of emotions and it had been too much. He tried not to focus on what he couldn’t change, tried to be grateful for what he’d gotten to straighten out with his father. It meant a whole lot to him but he needed some time to process it all.

Sam had tried to talk with Dean right after Mom had left, to get a conversation going about the whole thing, but Dean had mumbled something about needing some time alone to get himself together enough to be able to deal with Sam’s issues too. Which, okay was a little harsh, but that was just Dean these days. Sam gave him a big pass, because he’d ‘been there done that’ with trying to stay himself while an archangel was along for the ride.

Sam lay there alone, in the quiet of his dark room, staring at the light patterns that the grate at the bottom of his door cast onto the floor. The patterns were so familiar to him now, but not terribly comforting to him tonight even though they usually were. They weren’t enough tonight, because there was something else that would be better. Sam realized with a pang in his heart that what he wanted most right then was that teddy bear. He knew all the rational reasons why he shouldn’t go anywhere near the thing, but god how he wanted to feel the worn fur and the plush give of its soft belly again. He could feel his hands kneading his pillow as if he was holding the thing.

God, he’d had it right _there_ in his hands back in that pawn shop and he wanted to feel that thrilling rush of ultimate possibility again. He’d almost pulled the string on the back of the teddy bear, right then and there in the pawn shop. He’d even had his finger tucked inside the ring; just beginning to tug at it; all the possible futures opening up before him; unfurling like a complicated pattern of falling dominoes. He just couldn’t stop thinking about what the bear might have said or done if he’d pulled the ring, and what it might have caused to happen.

He knew he should know better, be better, do better…whatever. But screw all that, Sam _really really_ wanted that teddy bear.

Sure the thing that had stopped him from pulling the string had been the creepy pawn shop dude saying, “I wouldn’t do that” without even turning around, that had been weird. Like the guy knew one of them would be grabbing the bear. For sure, super weird, but he had probably known how irresistible the adorable bear was. Sam wondered how the dude had managed to resist its allure and let it stay on the shelf.

He remembered that Dean had made _that face_ at him, the one Sam could never ignore. Just that expression of big-brother disapproval from Dean had pretty much made him put the bear down even though he really hadn’t wanted to. Why had he listened, out of all the times to listen to and obey Dean’s commands, why that one time? He could still feel that feeling, his finger in the plastic ring, the resistance of the string beginning to pull taut. What would have happened, what could still happen?

The teddy bear was down the hall in one of the bunker’s storerooms, all alone, waiting its turn to be catalogued along with all the other stuff they’d hauled out of that place. All except for one thing, he’d already hidden the dragon’s breath gizmo so that Dean would stop playing with it and possibly burn the bunker down or hurt himself. He also knew that Dean had managed to snag that sword and already hung it on his weapons wall in his room before he’d had a chance to make any objections. So that was actually two things that weren’t with the others where they should be, what would one more hurt?

It was only fair that he could choose to have one of his own. The bear was the one that he could keep, like Dean got to have the sword. Fair was fair, right? No one would really know except for him, because Dean wasn’t paying attention to the details, too busy struggling to keep Michael caged up. And his brother certainly wasn’t going to be helping to do any of the cataloguing of the pawn shop haul. It just wasn’t Dean’s thing to do that sort of paperwork, and Sam had never minded. Sometimes it was good to be able to lose himself in the mundanity of record-keeping.

Sam swore to himself that he would put it right back where it came from. He solemnly promised himself, of course he would. He rolled over and hugged his pillow tightly. Sam knew that promise was full of shit, so he made himself stay in bed.

It was two in the morning now, according to the red numbers on his clock, and he really should be sleeping. He kept trying to get to sleep, but he couldn’t because of his worry about Mom and Dean’s reaction to Dad’s appearance and disappearance. But it wasn’t just about their reactions, the thing that was bothering him the most was his own part in their devastation.

The crunching noise of that damn pearl still vibrated through his right arm and it felt like a brand of responsibility that kept squawking at him:

_You did that,_

_you chose that,_

_you made him go away,_

_You made the two people you love most in the world sadder than should be possible._

Mom had left that night, after briefly letting them both hug her together, like they had just done with their Dad. But she was clearly trying to not break down completely in front of them, like she thought a parent was supposed to, he guessed. It would have made more sense for the three of them to hang out and talk the whole thing through. But they were Winchesters, so Mom left with tear-filled eyes and promised to call them when she got where she was going, and Dean had disappeared into his room. His brother’s door was closed, Sam had checked several times. Their unspoken agreement was that if their doors were closed in the bunker, that meant they wanted to be alone. And knocking first was an absolute requirement to break that rule, and only if it was an emergency.

“Is this that kind of emergency?” he asked himself out loud, his voice sounding strangely high-pitched, like someone else’s. Maybe that should have been a sign he should have noticed.

It wasn’t like Dean was in charge of all of his feelings, and the fact that he felt a strong compulsion to go get the teddy bear out of the storage room wasn’t up to his brother. It just wasn’t. This was between him and the bear. The poor furry thing was in there all alone in that cold storage room, just as lonely as he was. He needed to fix that—he could fix that. Maybe it would make him feel better.

He found himself in the storeroom, the ledger from the pawn shop open before him to the page that had the information about the bear.

He found himself reading the ledger for the details. It had it listed as “blood bag teddy bear used in human sacrifice.”

Sam looked at the bear more closely before touching it. Both the mouth and the eyes had been stitched entirely closed with thick black thread in rough haphazard stitching. Like it had been done in a panic or a rush. The thread looked just like the stuff used in some voodoo spells he’d seen over the years. Most of the gris-gris bags he’d seen had been sewn up with it, he’d even used that kind of thread himself in making some of the bags that Ruby had taught him about. But that had been ages ago. This was now, and the thread wasn’t anything special—but the bear _was_.

“Used in human sacrifice” probably meant it could be used in place of sacrificing a human. But how? You’d have to put something in it or on it that was from a human, blood, flesh, bone, etc. He picked up a pair of gloves that he had en-spelled to be magic-resistant and held the bear for the second time. Its back had a buttoned-up opening, he hadn’t noticed the first time he’d held it. Sam carefully undid the buttons and found there was indeed a cavity inside the bear, lined with something that seemed water-resistant, but it couldn’t be plastic, the bear was much too old for that. He didn’t want to think too hard about what it might be (Oh god, it was skin, oh god, it was probably someone’s stomach) flitted unbidden across his mind. He hoped he wasn’t right, but obviously it was already way too late for that person. It couldn’t be helped really, but it might be that it could be used.

The interior container was likely how it worked as a stand-in for a human, you could fill the cavity with human blood or whatever. Presumably then it would work in the place of any black magic spell where you needed human sacrifice. The poor bear just had to take it, be that human stand-in.

No wonder the sweet thing was so beat up.

Sam caressed the worn fur on its belly, thrilling at the feeling of its softness. “I wonder if you would mind if you got used one more time, little guy?”

He set the bear down next to him on his bed, snuggled with him into and under the covers. Sam was only mildly surprised to find himself back in his room, and without the special gloves. Maybe he should have worried about that a little bit more than he was, but it felt good to have the bear’s company, to feel the worn fur under his fingers, to have it next to him all snuggly and warm in his bed.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding the bear and texted Rowena.

Sam: I have something that works as a stand-in for human sacrifice. Is there a spell in that book that would work on Michael?

She didn’t answer right away. Sam bet it was because she was horrified, shocked, amazed, all of the above that Sam Winchester was inquiring about the darkest of the black magic spells in the book they kept arguing about who really owned. But this might be the answer they had been looking for. Maybe that was why he’d been drawn to the thing in the pawn shop in the first place. The _Pick Me Pick Me_ he’d felt from the object that might end up being the solution he needed, just offering itself up. Maybe that should have made him suspicious in and of itself, but Sam was already onto the next thing.

The next thing was trying to imagine how he was going to convince Dean to actually go through with that kind of magic. Because he’d likely have to let Michael out of the cage in his mind for a spell to be able to have a chance to work on the archangel. And then there was the whole human sacrifice element of using the thing, even if it was symbolic. Honestly, the whole endeavor was going to be an enormous risk. But that was his life right? Their life! It had always been chock full o’ risks. He snuggled down next to the bear, pulling the covers up over both of them. He buried his face in the soft fur, breathing in the scent of possibility, he ached and ached with the wanting to save his brother.

He came out of his daze when Rowena finally answered him.

Rowena: Welcome to the dark-side, Giant. I have several options, we should discuss.

Sam: I’ll meet you, where are you?

Rowena: So we’re hiding this from your brother, eh? Not a surprise, really. I can be in Chicago tomorrow. I’ll be at The Savoy.

Sam: Under your name or…?

Rowena: Oh yes, Rowena MacLeod is the name, and magic is my game

Sam: Just bring The Book, okay?

Rowena: Will do, my tidy bampot, and if you bring me The Codex I may be sweeter.

Sam: I’ll think about it, see you tomorrow.

Rowena: Ta, Sam. Think hard about how far you’re actually willing to go.

Sam didn’t answer, he already was, he certainly didn’t need Rowena’s advice out of all people. She had no use for limits herself, and she’d seen how far he’d gone to get the Mark off of his brother.

He quickly made a plane reservation online and set an alarm for 5:30 AM. He’d be taking off before Dean was even up in the morning. That meant he’d just have to leave him a note instead of lying to his brother’s face. He knew he was absolute shit at that, so it would probably work out better that way. He snuggled back in under the covers with the soft comfort of the bear next to him and tried his best to get back to sleep.

~*~*~

“What the fuck is that thing doing in bed with you?” Dean demanded, in a near-shout.

It was a traumatic way to wake up. Sam scrambled to cover the bear up under his pillow and jumped out of bed. He turned on his bedside lamp while asking himself why the hell Dean was even awake at this hour, and yelling at him in his room?

“What’s up, you need something?” Sam asked in a sleepy mumble, hoping he wasn’t radiating too much guilt.

“I was just checking in on you, it was a pretty traumatic thing that went down yesterday,” Dean said, leaning up against Sam’s dresser, crossing his arms.

Sam sank back to sit on the bed. “Yeah that’s kind of an understatement, but I’m doing okay, I guess, all things considered. How about you? You kind of disappeared on me.”

“Sorry about that, last night…I was overwhelmed. I wouldn’t have been much help,” Dean said.

“Like Bobby always said, put your own oxygen mask on first, right?”

Dean laughed, a harsh scoff that only made Sam cringe at expressing that sentiment, no matter how true it was for the situation.

“I’m really okay, it was uh…good I guess, seeing him. Seeing us all together, you were so right about that,” Sam said, immensely grateful they were skipping the topic of the thing hidden under his pillow.

“You’re so okay that you’ve got the creepiest bear in the universe in bed with you, sure thing, tough guy.” Dean stepped towards the bed and made a move to grab the bear out from under Sam’s pillow.

“Don’t—I need it,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s arm to stop him from uncovering the bear.

“You need an obviously cursed-to-hell-and-back bear?” Dean asked with the one-raised eyebrow expressing all the skepticism Dean wasn’t voicing.

“I needed something to hold, to get to sleep last night,” Sam said, admitting a bit of the truth in the hopes that the rest of the larger truth could stay hidden for now.

Dean didn’t say anything, he just walked around to the left side of Sam’s bed, the driver’s side as Sam always thought of it, where his brother always belonged. He shrugged off his robe, pulled the mussed-up covers back and climbed in.

Sam took the bear out from under his pillow and jammed it into one of the dresser drawers, slamming it shut before he became too weak to be able to let go of the thing. He climbed into bed and curled himself into Dean’s arms, trying and failing not to think about the possibilities of using the bear, about what he’d set in motion by arranging to meet with Rowena on the sly. Sam was out of that train of thought in an instant when Dean interrupted the silence.

“He told me he was disappointed in me still being a hunter, he said he thought I’d be out of hunting and have a family of my own by now,” Dean said in a quiet voice that barely held the raw shock from coming through.

“What the fuck?” Sam asked, all the muscles in his body tightening up in a sudden rage to protect, to defend his brother. Even after all these years, and how great it had been to see him, he still wanted to deck his dad, just once.

“Yeah, I told him I already had one. Just left it at that,” Dean said, tightening his arms around Sam even more obviously. ‘ _You.Are.My.Family,’_ Dean’s hug communicated in the sub-rosa bodily code they’d worked out over the years.

Sam chewed on that for a bit, finding the fact that his brother had stood up to their dad like that fairly impressive. But then he wondered if Dad had reacted to that answer, somehow made Dean feel even worse about their life together. “You think he knew? About us?”

“Don’t they all? It’s not like we can really hide it when we’re risking the world for each other all the freaking time.”

“I guess, we’ve never really had to talk about it, straight out with anyone. Jody came pretty close to asking me once. But what about Mom, do you think she knows?” Sam asked, wondering if Dean had even thought about this much at all. His brother was so used to assuming he was successfully hiding everything from everyone all the time.

Dean sighed and didn’t answer, his hold on Sam fading away to just the bare weight of his arms, like he was about to let go and leave. “Oh you bet she does, why do you think she doesn’t stick around much these days?”

“You know that for sure…has she said anything?” Sam asked, suddenly panicked that he’d missed something this huge. Why hadn’t Dean said anything, so they could fix it, or change or talk to her or something?

“It’s nothing specific that happened, I just know that she knows. Let’s leave it at that,” Dean said. “And by the way, I don’t care that she does know, just so you and me are clear, okay?”

“Okay, got it, same here,” Sam said, running all the possibilities of where and when Dean had figured this out. He wondered why Dean hadn’t ever said anything to him. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to fight about it, or be pushed to change anything. And that should make him happy, it really really should. And it did, of course it did. Because it meant Dean had chosen him—again.

“It’s not like we had any real options, right? That’s why I didn’t bring it up with you, didn’t seem like there was much of a point,” Dean said, answering Sam’s unasked question with unerring perception.

Sam was glad the bear was hidden away in his dresser, because he would have been grabbing it for comfort at this point, the sadness in his brother’s voice was nearly unbearable, _no pun intended_ his brain unhelpfully joked. “I get it, why you didn’t tell me. I feel like an idiot that I didn’t figure it out myself. Guess I’ve been in research mode for a while now.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just squeezed Sam briefly in a full-body hug.

“Thank you, for choosing me again. I mean not just with Mom, but with the whole thing with Dad last night, too.” Sam thought about that, how Dean could have chosen to take them down that strange path permanently. Him wearing turtlenecks and glasses, spouting nonsensical shit on the internet, Dean being hunted down by the FBI. But their Dad alive, and basically a do-over for the last fourteen shitty years.

“Like I said, not even another viable option there. I’m always choosing you, you get that by now, right?”

“I do, yeah, and same goes for me too, you know that right?” Sam asked, knowing that he sounded exactly like the pathetic little brother that he’d always be.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean answered, tucking his face into the back of Sam’s neck, and slowing down his breathing.

Sam relaxed into Dean’s hold, enjoying the warmth of Dean’s breath, and of his embrace. They didn’t usually sleep like this, unless something drastic had recently happened. Last night had been the definition of drastic. He guessed Dean coming in to his room like this meant that Dean knew that they both needed this. And they did.

***

Sam dreamed how it would all happen. Using the bear, it would work, it had to, and they’d be happy. He’d finally be able to persuade Dean to retire. In his dream they’d even moved away from the bunker, turning it over to their mom and new-Bobby. He woke up to reality with his brother thrashing next to him in the bed like he was drowning in the middle of the ocean.

“Dean, c’mon wake up,” Sam said, shaking Dean’s shoulder.

Dean kept thrashing for a few more seconds and then seemed to give up. Like he’d gone limp and was doing a deadman’s float, face-down in the water. He also wasn’t breathing. Sam sat up in a panic. He shoved at Dean’s shoulder more violently.

“Dean! This isn’t fucking funny, c’mon wake up, now!” Sam shouted, continuing to panic.

He was just about to start doing the beginning steps of CPR when Dean’s eyes slowly opened and he took a hesitant breath, like he was afraid he’d still be breathing water.

“I’m up, I’m up, why are you yelling?” Dean had the audacity to ask.

“You were thrashing like you were drowning, and then you went limp, you weren’t breathing. It was almost like you drowned in your sleep.”

“Don’t remember it,” Dean said, his eyes closing against the fear Sam couldn’t hide in his eyes.

“Was it Michael?” Sam asked, hesitant to even voice the question, to say the name out loud in the quiet darkness of his room.

“Probably…hope not,” Dean mumbled, pretending to go back to sleep.

Sam sighed and flopped over, he checked the readout on his phone, only ten minutes until the alarm was set to go off, he disabled it. Decision time, either tell Dean why and where he was going, or make up a story and tell him the truth afterwards. Usually the latter was the go-to choice, but after yesterday, and this thing just now with Dean maybe dying in his dreams—it seemed like he had to take the chance to be truthful. Maybe it might even affect the outcome.

“I’m flying to Chicago today, I’ll be back tomorrow,” Sam said. “It has to do with something I think can help us with the Michael situation.”

“You weren’t going to tell me,” Dean said, turning over in bed, facing away from Sam.

“No, I wasn’t, because I was figuring you’d try to stop me, or talk me out of it.”

“Just like me going up to Donna’s cabin, not telling you why. I get it, so why tell me now?” Dean rolled back over, landing on his back, staring at the ceiling,

“Because of yesterday, and what just happened this morning. I’m feeling like honesty’s the best policy. It’s the bear, according to the ledger we picked up along with all that stuff from the pawn shop, it’s used as a stand-in for human sacrifice.”

“And we’re out of options for Michael, so you’re already onto dark magic, which of course means Rowena. Where are you meeting her?”

Dean was good, always so good at putting the big picture together. “Yeah, I’m meeting her in Chicago today. She’s bringing the Big Book, she has a couple options that might work.”

“If this bear thing means we can somehow do a dark magic spell without killing anyone, then I’m all for it,” Dean said.

“Seriously?” Sam asked, alarm bells went off in his belly, it must be a whole lot worse keeping Michael locked down than Dean had let show. Of course, Dean would put as much effort into keeping his struggle hidden than the actual struggle itself.

“Yeah, if it’s not going to boomerang and hurt you, then why the hell not? It’s not like we’ve turned up any other leads, and I promised you I wouldn’t go and lock myself inside that box, right?”

“You did, and I didn’t give you credit, I assumed you’d just say no to trying something like this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a normal situation, right? So, I can’t do what I normally would do. Yeah, give me some credit, I know I’ve got to give you a lot of leeway to solve this. Just promise me, don’t make any deals or sacrifice yourself, okay?”

“Promise, been there done that, we’re doing things differently now.”

“Still saving each other’s bacon though,” Dean said.

“You better believe it, when it’s fine quality bacon like this,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s ass and pulling them together under the covers. “I have fifteen minutes before I need to leave for the airport.”

“Well then, we better figure out a good way to give you something to remember me by,” Dean growled. “Don’t want you hooking up with Gabriel’s leftovers now do we.”

“Don't talk about her like that, she’s helping,” Sam said. “And I don’t think about her in that way at all.”

“She could make you do anything,” Dean said. “You know how powerful she is. I don’t like you seeing her alone.”

“Dean, we owe her, like it or not. And she’s still helping, even though she doesn’t need to, give her some credit. And you can come with if you want to, you just have to fly.”

“It’s only like ten hours in the car,” Dean said.

“I already bought the ticket, non-refundable,” Sam said.

“It’s not really our money, who cares?” Dean asked.

“I need to meet her today, that’s what we arranged,” Sam said.

“Tell you what, I’ll fly if I can sit next to you,” Dean said. “Otherwise I’m driving and I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re right, you should be there for this, since it’s about you. I’ll text her, see if she can meet us here instead.”

Sam: Change of plans, would it be possible for you to come here?

Rowena: That’s easier actually, Dean going to be gone I assume?

Sam: No, I told him. He’s on-board, wants to be in on the convo

Rowena: My how you two have grown up these days, it’s disgusting really

Sam: When can you get here?

Rowena: Around five pm I think, just in time for cocktails.

Sam: Dean says he’ll make you a Witchy Woman

Rowena: ??? I’ll try anything once

Sam cancelled his plane reservation and snuggled back under the covers with Dean who’d almost fallen back asleep after suggesting the cocktail choice.

Dean’s hands moved in slow circles on Sam’s back, almost lulling him to sleep, but awakening a need that he hadn’t realized he had. Being honest about his intentions had something to do with it, he needed to be honest with his body too. He rolled Dean over onto his back and covered him completely with his own body. Dean groaned with the feeling of their bodies aligning so naturally, clicking into place like they always had.

“Do you have any idea, Dean?” Sam murmured, kissing Dean’s ear and nipping at his neck.

His brother didn’t say anything but spread his legs wide and let Sam press them together even closer. His hands never stopped their caressing gentle touches, the skin on Sam’s back hummed and burned, delicious and alive with the feeling. Sam leaned over and grabbed the lube off the bedside table and warmed some up in one hand, coating his fingers he pressed them in, one at a time, teasing and slow, until Dean writhed desperate and silently begging.

“Would do anything for you,” Sam murmured, kissing Dean deep and hard, emphasizing the control he had over Dean in that moment. “Want to give you everything, Dean.”

Again Dean didn’t answer, but he flipped them over and inched up Sam’s body, raising himself up and then slowly sinking down on Sam, bringing him inside where he belonged. Dean held him there for the longest time until Sam was desperate to move, held him with his body, clamped down tight, and his eyes, the silent conversation they shared was everything. Sam didn’t want to miss a moment of that.

Finally Dean began to move, in slow, almost languid rolls of his hips. Sam let him have it this way, because Dean was actually taking what he needed. If Dean needed slow desperate sleepy sex, then that was what he was going to get. Sam’s hands held onto Dean’s hips, caressing the bone under his soft skin with his thumbs, pressing in hard to leave his mark. Dean hissed with the feeling and gripped Sam tighter deep inside, rippling waves along Sam’s length. The feeling made Sam groan with pleasure, Dean had so much control in this position, it was amazing.

“Sammy, don’t ever want to stop,” Dean said in between panting breaths.

Sam’s eyes roved over Dean’s face, capturing all the nuances of bare emotion and expression that Dean usually kept hidden. “So then don’t, keep going, I’m with you.”

Dean groaned and bowed his head, moved his hips faster, pressing himself against Sam’s belly for the friction. Sam reached down and gripped Dean with one hand, wrapping him up tight, pulsing his hand in time with Dean’s thrusts. Dean never faltered, never changed to a faster tempo like Sam expected, he just went on and on, desperate, and sleepy and relentless.

They usually finished faster than this, Sam could tell that Dean needed more, he needed this extra time to take his pleasure, or maybe something else. “I need…” Dean gasped out, struggling to get the words out past the spiraling pleasure.

Sam tightened his hand on Dean, twisting at the head slightly when Dean pressed into his grip. “I’ve got you, Dean.”

Dean’s hips stuttered and ground down onto Sam, releasing between their bellies, hot and sudden. Dean clenched hard and tight all around Sam where he was still moving deep inside. Sam struggled to thrust one, two more times, releasing with a relieved sigh. They lay there in a daze together for a long time, Sam still inside Dean, still holding Dean in his hand as he gradually went soft again. Dean’s hands moved in Sam’s hair, petting and tugging it gently. Sam didn’t want to move or think or do anything.

“Don't ever want to get out of this bed,” Dean said, laughing when his stomach growled loudly.

“I have energy bars in here if you want one,” Sam offered.

“Bite your tongue,” Dean said, an automatic response, he never ate Sam’s energy bars, it was a principled stand based on his contention that you had to eat real food when you had a kitchen.

“Pretty sure you already did,” Sam said. “I’m getting up though, I have to get prepared for Rowena. Batten down the hatches, hide all the good stuff, you know.” Sam escaped Dean’s clutches to stand up from the bed.

“Oh god, I’d already blocked that out that she was coming today. Guess we don’t want her finding us in bed like this.”

“What do you think, does she know about us, Rowena?” Sam asked.

“Given the comments she’s made over the time she’s known us, what Crowley probably told her and what she’s seen us actually do for each other, yeah, she knows,” Dean said.

“And still she teases anyway, like she doesn’t know I’m yours,” Sam said.

“She teases about a lot of stuff, it’s just how she communicates,” Dean said. “I try to ignore it mostly.”

“Mostly—except for when you’re bitching to me about her,” Sam said.

“Yeah, you gotta keep your pet witch under better control or something, man. Otherwise she can’t be in the Scooby gang.”

“She probably would have loved doing that, the whole Scooby-doo thing,” Sam said.

“Would she have even known what it was though?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I don’t know if she’s really caught up on her 70’s kids tv shows, good point,” Sam said.

***

They used the bear, oh hell yes did they ever.

Rowena arrived with her satchel filled with spell ingredients just as Dean had mixed up the Witchy Woman cocktails. Both Sam and Dean were a little bit woozy from the blood loss fro the spell preparations so they only had one each.

“Are we doing this tonight then, boys?” Rowena asked as she drained the last of her cocktail.

“Yeah, it’s a little time sensitive now,” Sam said.

“Oh really, what’s changed?” Rowena asked.

“He’s gettin’ to me, in my sleep,” Dean admitted. “Sam says I drowned this morning.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s shoulder, glad that his brother was able to be honest about how much they needed Rowena’s help. Hopefully that’d keep her on their side long enough to get this done. That and him just basically outing them with that confession, now she definitely knew.

Rowena smiled, sly and very amused at both of them. “Ah, you two, I hope you never change.”

Dean lifted his glass in her direction and then clinked it to Sam’s. They finished their drinks, smiling around the rims at each other. Yeah, she knew.

“So where’s the bear of the hour, eh?” Rowena asked.

Sam stood up and pulled a towel wrapped bundle towards him. He carefully unwrapped it, uncovering the bear.

“Where are those special gloves?” Dean asked.

“I’m not touching it,” Sam said, mildly irritated to be interrupted while he had the chance to see it,

“I’m gettin’ them, don’t touch that thing,” Dean said, striding out of the room.

“Has it ensnared ye then, Samuel?” Rowena asked, nodding towards the bear.

“I…I wouldn’t say that exactly. It’s not a compulsion, well, not always. But it doesn’t get far away from my thoughts.”

“Then there’s more than one reason to do the spell right away,” Rowena said, unpacking some of the items from her bag. She waved a silver stiletto in his direction then pointed it at the bear. “The spell should remove the hold the wee thing has over you—in theory.”

“What has a hold over you? The bear, really you have a thing for that thing?” Dean asked, appearing at Sam’s side and handing him the magic-proofgloves.

“That thing is going to save your ass from Michael, show it a little respect,” Sam said, reaching out to touch the bear. Dean snatched his hand away.

“Use the gloves,” Dean said with a low growl of command.

“Yes, sir, of course, sir,” Sam said with a mock salute. He pulled the gloves on, one by one, instantly pining for a touch of its worn fur. It had been so long since he’d felt that softness, hours and hours, he barely remembered it now.

Rowena smiled at the two of them and then cleared her throat to get their attention. “Now, the blood you two have given, is for purposes of this spell known as the Blood of the Vessels. The spell translates to specify that it is vessels who have both said yes. It’s important that for the spell to work that the blood was freely given from beings who have given their permission to be possessed by an angel.”

“Any angel?”

“Yes, angels are apparently not at all picky. Once they’ve heard a yes, it’s a yes for all time, for any and all angels.”

“So our blood is going to make the bear into a vessel. What is this, the transitive property of angelic consent?” Sam asked.

“Yes, exactly, it should be enough to convince Michael that the bear is a vessel, so he’ll possess the bear instead of Dean, or you,” Rowena said, pointing the sharp, thin and very shiny silver stiletto at each of them in turn. “And finally there is this beauty. It’s believed to be created from a piece of an angel’s blade, it’s been passed down through many witch families over the years. I’ll use it to direct Michael’s grace into the bear.”

“What’s that smell?” Dean sniffed as she waved it in front of his face.

“It had to be pre-treated with holy oil and prayers. I’m guessing you’re only recognizing the holy oil,” Rowena snarked.

Dean scowled and took a few steps away, grumbling to himself.

“Let’s get going shall we? Dean, you sit over here, I’ll hypnotize you so you can get inside your head to let Michael out, best to be seated for that, eh?”

Sam stood next to the ritual bowl with the containers of their blood and the lined-up measurements of the various herbs and other ingredients for the spell. He watched Dean across the table as Rowena approached. He could see the fear and worry on Dean’s face. “It’s going to work, Dean.”

Dean looked at him and nodded, he then turned his attention fully to Rowena as she dangled a shiny charm in a hypnotic rhythm in front of his eyes. Her low tones were soothing and also rhythmic, Sam had to shake himself out of the torpor that rolled up over him like a warm blanket right out of the dryer. He concentrated on the bear instead, holding onto it he could feel the thrum of its power even through the gloves. He unbuttoned the container in the belly to get it ready for its role in the upcoming spell.

“While your brother attempts to pull the angel out, let’s get the container filled-up and ready, shall we?”

Sam had to work at it for a moment, but he yanked his hand away from the bear and nodded to Rowena. He was feeling anxious to get this over with, it had to work, he had to save Dean. Because his brother was not ending up down on the bottom of the sea locked up in that damn box for all eternity with an archangel.

Rowena stood next to him, so tiny and still commandingly powerful. She made a series of complicated movements with her hands that he couldn’t quite follow and murmured some words in a language he felt might be Latin but were probably something far older. She elbowed him and he poured the containers of their blood into the ritual bowl. There were more hand movements and words spoken more loudly this time, again she elbowed him, so he dumped the ingredients in, one by one from right to left. Herbs and bones and various animal parts, a handful of grave dirt and a few other things he didn’t want to examine too closely.

Rowena produced a small flame in one hand, which she sent drifting into the ritual bowl, it lit the atmosphere above the blood into a purple haze and then it all collapsed into a glistening deep carmine red. It pulsed with the power of several heartbeats in time with Sam’s own. She elbowed Sam again, and he hastened to pick up the bear and hold open the container in its belly.

He joined her in chanting the phrase _ontziaren odola_ until she had poured the last of the disgusting mixture into the belly of the bear. He kept chanting the words as he buttoned up the double fastenings and held the bear against his own belly. As they waited for Dean to let Michael out, Sam had to keep chanting the words. After he had filled the bear with their blood, it felt heavier and heavier, weighing almost as much as a cat who’s sat on your lap for too long. Sam’s hands shook as they ran over the buttoned up double enclosure in the bear’s belly. His fingers twitched and danced away from the fur, he couldn’t let himself indulge, not in the middle of this, not while Rowena and Dean were here and could see what the bear meant—what it could do, did do to Sam. He managed to set the bear down on the table in front of Rowena where it needed to be for the next part of the spell. His hands ached at their emptiness.

Rowena was calling to Dean, in some language that seemed to write itself in the darkened air between them, the words writhing and pulsing with her breath. Dean was shaking, his hands gripped around the edge of the table, knuckles gone white with pressure, his jaw tight with pain and concentration. Dean was deep into his own mind, he had to be close to opening the door he’d kept locked for weeks. He had to let Michael out. Rowena’s words flowed between them in a steady stream, Dean’s head buffeted back by their onslaught and his face changed, morphing into the familiar sly smirk of the archangel.

The very moment that Michael surfaced, before Michael could do anything, Rowena stabbed the bear right in the head with the stiletto blade. The angel grace swooped out of Dean’s body, yanked right out of his eyes, nose and mouth and into the belly of the bear in a gush of blue light, making it glow much too brightly for them to even be able to look at the thing.

Rowena drew the stiletto out of the bear’s head and waited. Nothing happened after a few tense moments, she poked at the belly of the bear with the tip of the stiletto, but still, nothing happened. The bear just laid there glowing at them with the contained grace of an archangel, it’s stitched-up face expressionless just as it was before. The new hole in its head glowing blue with angel grace.

“God-damn, we fucking did it,” Dean said and then he fainted. Sam caught him before his head could hit the floor.

“Not so very bad, Giant,” Rowena said, smiling down at them both.

“Thanks, Ro, we couldn’t have done this without you,” Sam said. “We owe—“

Rowena held up a hand. “Stop right there, Samuel. It seems as though I’m on the saving the world team. No point in living forever if there isn’t a world left to live in, eh?”

Sam nodded and looked down at Dean in his lap, his face finally truly relaxed after month’s of worry and stress. He stood up and hoisted Dean’s limp body up with him and staggered down the hall to their room. Dean woke up before they made it to his room. To Sam’s surprise, he seemed absolutely fine.

“He’s gone, the door in my mind is open, and he’s not there. So it really worked, huh?” Dean asked.

Sam propped Dean up against the hallway wall, and checked him over for injuries. “It did, the whole thing seems like it worked out, just like we thought it would. The bear was still glowing with angel grace, but it seems to be dimming pretty quickly.”

“I’m just gonna get changed and then we’ll celebrate, huh? Break out the special whisky since we have a guest who’ll appreciate it,” Dean said.

“Okay, I’m going to grab a quick shower, the blood…it got messy,” Sam said, pointing down at himself and the nonexistent blood spatters he could practically feel all over him.

Sam watched his brother walk down the hall and shook his head at himself, he shouldn’t worry. Dean seemed just fine, no headache or anything. He passed the bathroom, and returned to the library, to make sure the bear was secure before they started drinking.

The library was empty, but the residual glow of the archangel’s grace seemed to fill it with an almost solid light. It reminded Sam of The Cage, and the two archangels he’d spent so much time with; the grace of Gadreel inside him for months; Castiel’s eyes glowing bright so many times. All that angel grace, all that power passing through him, flashed through Sam’s mind until all he could think about was seeing the bear one last time.

They were going to drive it out to the coast with the bear sealed in the Ma’Lak box and throw the whole thing into the ocean tomorrow. This was nearly his last chance to see the poor little thing, to feel its fur one last time. The light had faded a little, so he could see the bear now, it was beautiful, bathed in the blue glow. Sam could feel the light on his skin like a soft caress, the touch of worn soft fur lit up with the light of the angels, and he wanted to hold the bear one last time. No one would ever have to know.

Sam lifted the bear as if in a trance, the remaining angel light faded like a switch being flipped. In the sudden dark, Sam held the bear up to his face, without a thought of using the special gloves, because he wanted the feeling of that fur, wanted to have it and remember it and enjoy it just for one more moment. He pressed it against his cheek for one long blissful moment—but then he couldn’t seem to let go of the thing. And the thing, the bear, it was still Michael, he was there in the bear, he had just been hiding, waiting…he took Sam in a rush of light and noise that was too familiar for Sam to even begin to resist.

“You said yes to two angels, Sam, that counts as a forever yes in my book,” Michael said with a smirk.

Sam screamed internally and shook the walls of his mind, but it wasn’t even close to enough this time, the feeling of the bear in his hands muted everything. He screamed Dean’s name and Michael just laughed and made Sam’s hands drop the bear on the table.

“Let’s go get clean now, huh? Big brother will love that won’t he?” Michael asked in a teasing sing-song that was the last thing Sam heard for a while.

****

Rowena was drinking with Dean in the kitchen, they were on their second glass of whisky when Dean noticed Sam hadn’t come back from his bathroom trip to join them yet.

“I’m just gonna…uh…go check on him,” Dean said, his voice steadier than he felt after all the whisky. It hadn’t replaced the emptiness he felt inside after having Michael ripped out. The archangel had taken up a lot of room in there, it was going to take a while to rearrange his internal furniture.

Dean could feel Rowena’s eyes on him as he walked out, he was grateful that she didn’t tease or push him the way she normally would have. It reminded him of Crowley and how he’d changed and softened over the years. These MacLeods really grew on you whether you liked it or not.

“Sammy? You still in here?” Dean called as he approached the bathroom door.

There wasn’t an answer, and the lights were off, but he could hear water sloshing in the bathtub. Dean opened the door slowly, the light from the hall fell on the bathtub, Sam was in there, his eyes glowing blue with angel grace. It had to be Michael’s grace, it was the only guess he had, it couldn’t possibly be Lucifer or even more unlikely, Gadreel. Dean had hoped he’d never see the sight of his brother’s eyes gone angel-grace blue ever again in his life, and here it was all over, worse than all the other times combined.

“Michael?” Dean asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Did you miss me, Dean-o?” Michael asked in a sibilant teasing voice that made Dean’s skin crawl. He’d gotten used to hearing that voice in his mind, not with his ears. It was a thousand times worse, especially coming out of Sam’s mouth.

“Rowena! Sammy, you gotta—” Dean yelled just as his air was cut off by the power of Michael’s invisible hold.

“Silence!” Michael roared, standing up in the tub, one hand held up towards Dean, closing hard into a fist.

****

Rowena heard Dean’s panicked cry and then Sam’s voice shouting for silence. And then nothing—she knew what that meant. They’d screwed it up somehow, the transfer of Michael’s grace hadn’t been permanent. Maybe they should have used the Ma’Lak box as the spell closer after all.

“It’s up to you now, giant. We talked about this possibility,” Rowena said, backing up in the hallway away from the voices. She found the bear where they’d left it on the library table. All the ingredients were still laid out, so she did the spell again in a rush, knowing Michael could stop her at any moment.

She said the final words, plunged the stiletto into the bear, poor wee thing, the grace was ripped right out of Sam. She could hear him scream in pain, and Dean’s shouts as well. The grace rushed down the hallway in a terrible glowing river of blue light and instantly filled the bear, making it glow again with that sickly blue. She grabbed the thing up in her skirt, making sure not to touch its fur. She ran to the storeroom where the Ma’lak box stood open and waiting. Rowena tossed the bear inside and slammed the lid down, quickly sliding the locks shut. She could hear Michael’s scream from deep inside the box, could see the angel’s dying light echoing, trying to escape the box, but failing and fading to a small glow.

“Boys, I’ve got him locked in the box,” she shouted down the hallway as she ran towards them. Who was she now, this idiot woman running towards danger instead of hiding, instead of going the other way round, marshaling her powers only to protect herself? “Sam, Dean?”

She came into the bathroom and stopped in the doorway. Dean was holding Sam’s naked, wet body in his lap, bent over, shoulders shaking with grief. Rowena could see that Sam wasn’t breathing. “Dean, what happened?”

Dean looked up at her, wordless grief changing his face into a mask of endless pain. She stepped forward and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. She could feel that Sam was still there, he hadn’t gone quite yet. “Samuel, y’er not getting out of this so easily, come back to us. It’s not the time. Reaper begone, you can’t have him yet!”

Dean glanced around the room, ready to fight the reaper he couldn’t see. Sam’s body seemed to become heavier all at once, his brother took in an enormous breath, then let out a small moan of pain.

Rowena took her hand off Sam’s shoulder, now heaving with life and pain. She stepped out of the room, letting the boys have a moment.

“Thank you, Rowena. I owe you, we owe you, everything,” Dean said in a voice choked with so much emotion it made her almost sick to hear.

“So you do, don’t ye worry, I’ll collect on it some day,” Rowena said, making her way back to the library. She gathered her things up along with a few extra books they likely wouldn’t miss for a bit, and left through the bunker’s main door. She didn’t want to be there when Sam really came back to himself. Dean should be the one to handle that. She’d done enough today, more than enough.

***

The door slammed and they were alone again. Really alone this time. No archangel on board anyone’s brain, no dad or mom brought back from the dead, no nephilim quasi-son, no angel friend or foe, no hunters from another world. Sam quivered and quaked in Dean’s arms, shaking from the pain and the cold, but still alive. Dean held him and murmured nonsense words of comfort, old and pat but they always always worked, the comfortable familiarity of repetition. But it didn’t make sense, he was gone, he had gone with her this time.

“I d…do…don’t want to go,” Sam said.

“You’re not going anywhere, you heard her,” Dean said.

Sam blinked, left his eyes shut for five full shuddering breaths and then blinked them open again. He searched the room wildly for her, the reaper who’d been insisting he go with her. His eyes kept coming back to find just Dean again and again. Thank god, only Dean, not her. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, I got you,” Dean said, one warm hand cupping the side of Sam’s face. “No reapers allowed.”

“Where’s Rowena?” Sam asked, pressing his face into Dean’s hand, soaking up the warmth and then shivering uncontrollably.

“She left us to get reacquainted with our unpossessed selves,” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “C’mon, let’s get you warmed up, huh?”

Dean stood up and helped Sam get vertical. He started the showers up and removed all his clothes, hustling Sam in under the spray. Sam felt useless, his hands didn’t feel like his own, he couldn’t hold anything, much less wash himself, so he stood there and let Dean do it for him. A sudden rush of fond nostalgia flooded through him for the two little boys in all those dingy motel showers. Dean had always made sure he had gotten cleaned up when he’d needed it. Even when he hadn’t wanted to.

“I remember when you used to do this for me, when I was little,” Sam said, not able to keep the fondness out of his voice, but not caring after what they’d just gone through. They both needed to hear as much love and caring as possible at this point. “I was such a little shit, fighting you when I got in the mud and you wanted to get me clean before dad came back and had a fit about it. You’ve always been so good to me, Dean.”

“You were a hell of a lot wigglier back then,” Dean said with a small chuckle, his hands scritched and scratched Sam’s scalp as he washed his hair. The scent of sandalwood enveloped them, Sam breathed in deeply, grounding himself with the familiar smell of his very own shampoo, his very own Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m your very own Dean. You’re acting pretty punch-drunk, dude, you really okay?” Dean asked.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“What for?” Dean asked.

“That it didn’t work,” Sam said.

“It did though, he’s out, he’s locked up tight now. No more Michael, no more Lucifer,” Dean said. “It’s over and done.”

“No…not that, the pearl thing, I wish it had worked. That you’d gotten your wish for real,” Sam said. “Just want you to be happy, Dean. I know I’m not enough.”

“You are though, Sammy. That’s what I was tellin’ you before you big dummy. I think my wish was for me to be able to show Dad how happy we are together. That we made it all this way, in spite of what he did to us as well as because of what he did for us.”

“You mean it?” Sam asked, suddenly feeling like that wiggly excited five year old.

Dean pulled him down so he could kiss the answer into mouth, leaving the words on his lips, the sentences on his tongue. Sam didn’t mind it so much when Dean communicated this way, sometimes words didn’t say enough, couldn’t contain what they needed to get across.

“What would your wish be if we had another one of those pearls?” Dean asked, once they parted and shut off the water. Dean handed him one of their fluffy new towels and Sam reveled in the feeling of the gloriously soft fabric.

“This,” Sam said, stopping his drying off routine, because he couldn’t move after that thought. This was all he wanted, them together, alive, safe, in their own home. What else could he ever want more than this?

“Really? Not law school, two point five kids, a big slobbery dog and a white picket fence?”

“Hell yes really, hell to the no, we already have one and that’s enough, yes please, and maybe.”

Dean ticked off all the answers on his fingers. “Where do you want to put the fence?”

“Somewhere the dog will like it?” Sam answered with a laugh.

_**The End** _


End file.
